Superficiality
by Hermaphrodite
Summary: Bunny. "I'll take my clothes, and it will be shameless, because everyone knows that's how you get famous."


hey. no one dies in this one rofl. i decided to make this one sweet, since i've probably scarred all of the people in the KH district.

me? BETA? LOL lets get real.

i dont know if i like this one or not. hrm. the end is rushed. oh. and i want people on my msn list. D: i have a total of.. two people. lols. ask for my msn in your review. :3

oh and prepare to lol at the unbelievable OOCness. but i CAN do it because they're OOOOLDER.

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He looked like something that strutted straight out of Barbie's playhouse. 'Quipped with chunky black high heels, a pair of sheer black tights all the way down to his ankles, and a long white blouse barely covering over his naughty parts—the blond was only a ghost of the boy I used to know, the haunting of him in his cherubic face and wide, now partially innocent lapis lazuli eyes. Over his silky-white blouse was a cotton button up sweater, but it remained opened, exposing the few loops of pearls stringed together loosely. There was a black belt of fake leather that stretched over his sickly thin waist. I know it's a fashion trend, but it wasn't one of my favorites.

His hair had grown out immensely, I could see that. He must have not brought it near a pair of scissors in years, quite possibly since the last day I saw him stumbling innocently around South Park. It was reached mid-chest now, but it had all been pushed aside to form a side pony tail. It was squiggly, in that sort of fake curl that I could identify correctly, ever. Clamped? Crimped? One of those. His hair was teased up on the crown, and quite possibly one of the biggest bows I've ever seen claimed over most of his head. His hair was still blond, but a completely different shade from when I saw him before. It looked whiter. It also looked fried—so this might be as close as he could have gotten back to it.

I felt scummy as he walked near. He could have spent hours putting that outfit together, and I woke up five minutes before I had to be here. I always wanted to be trendy, but I found I couldn't quite pull off something—Well, something like _that_. For some reason my wardrobe tended to combine an excess of skinny jeans of all colors (black, blue, brown, purple, pink..) and an embarrassment of t-shirts. That's right. T-shirts. I liked V-necks these days, which was what I was wearing now. And scarves. I think the fashion police would beat me if they found me wearing a scarf _and_ a v-neck, like what I was wearing now, but I was only taking pictures here. Not the one in them.

Worn, black skinnies, a plain white v-neck with the exception of some kind of insignia down in the corner and on the right sleeve, and a gray plaid scarf; That's it. Point blank. Nothing extravagant. Well, unless you count my studly long-strap bag which broadened over my chest, which I did. Of course, an outfit of mine was never complete unless something covered my face. This, usually, was a pair of thick rimmed glasses. They were kind of nerdy, but I couldn't help myself. From childhood I couldn't grow out of wanting my face hidden from the world. I couldn't tell you where it was coming from.. Maybe I was ashamed. Maybe I still was.

His shoes left a click in their wake as he made his way over to me. To his right was his agent, the one who had booked this photo shoot with me. At the time I was in an aggressive mood. He told me that it would better his client's portfolio, and I responded with irritated grunts and sighs. He told me that he sent the portfolio in the mail about a week ago, showing the kinds of things his client was interested in. At the time, I hadn't realized that the mail from a week ago was still sitting on my counter, undisturbed. So when I hung up on him rather rudely and then finally did take a look at the mail still sitting on my counter for a week, I found something very interesting about the name of the man's client.

Leopold Stotch.

And that's when I rerang the agent with a mouthful of apologies and the pathetic excuse that his crazy schizophrenic roommate had answered by mistake. The agent accepted it hesitantly.

With the exception of Kyle, Stan, and occasionally when he wasn't trying to take over some sort of middle-eastern country, Cartman, I very rarely saw any of my classmates from school. They had spewed all across the country or, just the opposite, remained in South Park. Why anyone would want to do that, I really have no answer. I first went to a no-name college in California. You'd think after Kyle's escapade and the drama that remained post-California, I wouldn't want to go anywhere near that place. But I told myself I wouldn't be staying long. Just get my degree, and then get the hell out of there and spend the rest of my life as a famous photographer and then knead as many boobies as I wanted to. But things don't work out that way.

I stayed in California. I was addicted to the warm weather, and the apartment I claimed had too good of a deal pertaining to rent. And all I had to do was listen to the lady above me teach her cats how to sing the meow mix commercial for about an hour every time it came on the TV. Then she'd forget what she was doing and move onto something else.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one with that idea. According to Butter's portfolio, he had been around in California for just has long as I have, maybe even longer, seeing as how I couldn't go to school right away and instead had to get a job for a few years just to pay to go away to school. But the idea that we never met wasn't that uncommon. We were both in Los Angeles, sure, but we went to two entirely different schools. And California is a big place.

However, I could still find myself barely grasping the idea that Butters was _here_. Butters! Innocent little Butters. Here. My brain could barely put that kind of outfit, and the Hello-Kitty-bearing rainbow of affection from South Park together, even if it was walking towards me with a bit of a pigeon-toe. I cocked my head to the side as I watched him walk towards me. Damn. He had nice legs. Wait, what?

It was times like these I wished I was wearing a hoodie with draw-strings.

"Butters." I found the word colliding against my mouth and falling out like honey. It was when he had finally arrived in front of me. His brows seemed to draw together nervously, and he wrung his hands together.

"Well, gee, I would ap-appreciate it if you didn't call me that no more." He said shyly. I grinned. Some things never change, I guess.

"But I gatta ask, h-how do you know my name?" He then asked, tilting his head to one side. I was going to supply with some kind of sarcastic response about how it WAS sort-of on his portfolio, but I knew what he was getting at.

"Aw, Butters," I started. I didn't care what he wanted me to call him. His name was Butters. "I'm hurt. You don't remember me?"

He stared at me with a blank look. This wasn't surprising. It wasn't like he could recognize my voice… or my face.. Did Butters even ever see my face? I guess my pause was too long.

"Ah—Err.. I'm sorry but.."

"It's Kenny, Butters." I shot him a knowing grin. "Kenny."

The idea seemed to dawn on him. I watched it flourish on his face. The drawn brows raised, and his eyes shone brightly. A smile blossomed across his face, equipped with a "Kenny!" as he dropped his shiny black purse next to him and brought his arms around my waist to catch me in a Butters' hug. I was caught a little off guard. After all, no one is quite as affectionate as Butters. Well, at least, they don't show it as much. Surprisingly, I didn't seem to care as much as when we were younger. Maybe it was because I matured. Or, more likely, it was because of those damn nice legs.

"It's you!" He cried, hopping a little. I was surprised he could. Didn't those heels hurt?

"It's me!" I rejoiced with him, flashing him a smile as he giggled. The agent then 'ahem'ed rather bluntly, looking away. He seemed to have picked up Butters' dejected bag, and was holding it with an outstretched hand like he didn't want to be seen with it, in Butters' general direction. The tiny blonde then 'oh'ed and grabbed it from him, returning it to the nook of his elbow. It was a big bag.. Almost bigger than him. Just what did Butters' have that required a bag of THAT size? I took a curious glance down at my own bag at my hip.

Alright. So maybe I wasn't being fair.

"So you're gonna be taking my picture, Kenny?" He grinned.. But I waited. I waited for it, and my wait was very much rewarded. Because within moments, his entire face fell. His jaw slackened, as well as his posture. He just stared at me with a look of horror in his eyes.

"Y-_You're_ gonna be taken my picture, Kenny?!" He echoed, and I myself couldn't help a small chuckle.

"That's right." I said appreciatively, still grinning. I ran a hand through my mop of dirty blonde hair. It just reached the nape of my neck. I need a haircut.

"B-But.. Wait..! I don't wanna do this now!" Butters' exclaimed, turning towards his agent.

My voice seemed to match Butters' agent's look when I responded with a, "Aww. But I was looking forward to it" in a sing-song voice. The man shook his head.

"But why not, Leo?" I hmph'd at the sound of Butters' real name. It sounded so lame. Certainly not the kind of name that suited a body and a face like Butters'. Well, Butters probably didn't either.. But at least it was cute. "I even sought out a childhood friend of yours so you'd be more comfortable. Wouldn't you rather want to do this with someone you know, rather than someone you don't?"

"No!" Butters chided childishly, shaking his head from side to side. I laughed as I stepped over to the set up. A white sheet hung limply over the ground and backdrop, and a few blinding lights heated over the area. It was quite professional looking, if I do say so myself. However, I then caught on to what the man said to Butters, and turned to him. My expression altered to something that looked pissed.

"Hey, wait a minute. You said you hired me because of my artistic skills." I dealed, fidgeting with the lights and adjusting the brightness, deciding maybe I didn't want to burn a hole into my model's head.

The man gave a nervous chuckle, "Well of course. I was just lucky enough to reach one of Leopold's friends with your kind of talent!" I grunted again. Fucking snake.

When I sought out Butters' eyes, I noticed they were glazed in worry. I offered him a smile. For some reason, I wanted to comfort him. My arms ached to reach out and hold him. To tell him everything was alright and run my hands through that fried blond hair of his. I wanted to touch his porcelain cheek, dusted with pink blush. I wanted him near me. But I shook my head of these thoughts. What am I, a pansy?

"It's alright, Butters. It'll be..." I calmed him a bit, stepping away from the lights and then reaching for the fat camera around my neck. It looked nice and a big—It looked professional. I brought it to my eyesight, looking through the tiny lens, and then captured the blond's look of confusion and worry. It wasn't the best picture.. But I liked it. I smiled down at it, then lifted my gaze and the smile exchanged to a smirk.

"Just like that." I said.

"Just.. like that?" He echoed, a brow lifting in suspicious.

"Just like that." I said assuring, but then provided, "But you'll be naked."

His face fell and he let out a groan.

"I don't want to do this!" He whined, stomping a little foot of his. I could see why he was so upset. Even when he was little he was awfully shy. Why would he even go into something like that? For whatever reason, it was not my business. I just wanted to get paid, and maybe get a peek or two. So I grinned at him.

"Alright, alright. Can I at least show you _my _portfolio while you're here?" I said, in a pleading tone. He looked tentative.

"Aw, c'mon. I got to see yours, I want you to see mine." He seemed to accept this, and I took him by the wrist and began leading him over to a door in the wall. The entire room was pretty bare, but it wasn't that big so it didn't take long.

"Alright, it's in here. It'll only take a minute." Butters nodded, sending a smile my way. Polite as ever, I opened the door for him, and let him inside before myself.

And then quickly shot it behind him.

I leaned my entire frame against the door nonchalantly, fidgeting with my camera. It only took second for him to understand. "H-Hey! This is a dressing room, not--!" I chuckled.

"Yep." I said knowingly. I found the picture I had taken of him moments before, and smiled down at it.

"Let me out!" He cried. I could feel him trying to push against the door, but my body was too heavy for him. Which was a little scary. I was pretty thin myself, and I hadn't realized that Butters was THAT weak. His arms were pretty thin. I guess it was to be expected.

"The faster you get out of your clothes the faster I move off this door and let you out." I said distractedly, ignoring him entirely. I then blinked. "Oh, and no cheating."

There was a pause, and then followed by quite possibly the softest and most embarrassed voice I had ever heard. "But.. um.. I don't want to walk out there _naked_." He whispered. It took everything in me not to smile.

"There's a robe behind you." I told him casually.

It didn't take that long for him to get undressed. I could hear the ruffling of his clothes being taken off and delicately folded to be set aside. I couldn't help myself from picturing him undressing.. but I couldn't exactly picture him naked. I guess that comes from never really wanting to picture men naked. I thought about maybe adding boobs, but decided that might mentally scare me for the rest of my life and acted against it.

"Erm.. Alright.. I'm done." He said softly, and I blinked.

I got off the door and swung it open. My expression changed to a grin when I noticed he had in fact disposed of all his clothes, including the undies, which I could see behind him. They were pink and had Hello Kitty on them. I wasn't surprised.

"How do you feel?" I asked in a quiet tone. He looked up at me, his face red.

"Naked." He dead panned, and pouted. I laughed at this.

"Good." And I took his wrist again, guiding him over to the set up and letting him stand where he wanted. As he began to let the robe lose, something inside my stomach jumped. Something I didn't want to jump. I realized that, for some reason, I didn't want to see him naked. I might have been because he was a boy—but I don't think that was it. I felt almost.. ashamed? It just didn't sit right with me. It was weird, because I had never felt that way with any of my other clients. But with Butters..

Maybe it was because he was a childhood friend. Yeah. That sounds right.

As he began to undress, I halted him with a firm "Stop" and he looked up at me curiously. My heart did summersaults and I wasn't really ready for that. I didn't like where this was going one bit.

"Well—Uh. Well you're a boy, but you give off the physical appearance of a girl, right?" He nodded thoughtfully.

"Well we want to keep that sort of feel. So we're not going to show your junk off directly, just give the impression of it. Er, here." I reached over and grabbed one of the dejected blankets set aside, and handed it to him. "Use this to cover yourself."

He began to let the robe slide down, but thankfully he was as self-conscious as ever, and was sure to keep his parts hidden behind the creamy blanket. It was just dark enough to not wash out his skintone. I was even surprised at myself for such fast thinking. I could debate about what I was feeling later, after the shoot was done.

I sat him on the ground and began picking at the blankets positioning. "I know your agent's here but.." I cast a glance up at him curiously. "If you're uncomfortable with something you can tell me." He looked at me with that innocent look. How he could manage with all his clothes off I had no idea. But he did have talent. Now I know why he's a model.

"Thanks." He mumbled softly, eyes looking down.

I brushed my hand up his legs, pushing the blanket up and revealing those tight pale thighs. He gasped a little at this, but was fairly good at concealing it. He looked away brashly. I grinned that Cheshire grin.

I made sure that the blanket only covered up his male parts, and bunched there. Every other part of his body exposed, including his perk little pink nipples. They were a soft pink, and even I had hard time adjusting to the flatness of them. But I wasn't turned off, either. Something that concerned me.

"Alright, you ready?" I asked, stepping away from the set and taking a breath. From here I could see him entirely. I'm not one to toot my own horn but, damn, it looked good. However, it wasn't all me, either. The whole thing would fall apart without the major component; Butters.

He nodded hesitantly, and the show began. I danced around in a semi-circle, taking whatever angles I could. He in turn painted emotions over his face, and rearranged his arms for me. He was beautiful. Why had I never noticed this before. His head tilted back and his blond hair cascaded over his form. Maybe I really had matured..

Nah. It was definitely those legs. I made sure to get them in every shot.

By the end of it, he seemed to have gotten a bit more comfortable in his own skin. His poses were less shy, and more straight forward. The fact that he was contented around me naked made me smile.. but then I quickly scowled. I'm really not supposed to be feeling these kinds of things. But I really didn't have time to sort them out, so instead I just used them to my advantage. After all, whoever would be seeing these pictures might have the same affect I do.

"Okay Butters." I said, straightening my posture. He did so as well, and got to his feet. He scurried over, trying to keep the blanket in place. He had a smile that radiated, even in the bright room. "Can I see?"

I shook my head, grinning. "Geez, a little impatient?" I said, then laughed. "How about you get dressed first and then I'll consider."

This time, it didn't take him long at all to get dressed. I was showing his agent the pictures, to which he nodded to approvingly, and as I was doing so the little blonde bombshell burst out of the dressing room, heels in hand. He was grinning brightly.

"Show me, show me!" He cried.

"Nope!" I responded, and his smile fell.

"Why not?" He whined, brows drawn up. It seemed he had gained a little bit of a Princess complex while being pampered so much.

"I want to publish them, first." I responded with. He huffed and I grinned. I never realized how much I could smile before seeing the tiny male again.

"How about this—Tomorrow at noon, come over to my place and I'll you the pictures, alright?" I was probably setting myself up for failure, or at least more confusion, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to see him again. It was an urge that I couldn't stop. I handed him my card that held all the necessary information.

He took it in both hands, staring at him, then glancing up to meet my eyes. "..Alright."

My heart soared.


End file.
